West
by jettisontak
Summary: Instruments are damaged, hazing of underclassmen runs rampant, people go missing for hours. Just another day at band camp. Then instruments are damaged beyond repair. No one owns up to the hazing. No one remembers where they've been for missing time perio


Disclaimer: I own them all. YES.

CHAPTER 1: Getting There

Sarah Decker swore inwardly and grabbed her elbow while glaring at the offending table. The previously unnoticed Post-it on said table caught her attention: "S—have fun, remember your shoes and keep your pants on. –M." Sarah looked down at her bare feet and silently thanked her older brother. She grabbed her duffel, sleeping bag, and running shoes and headed out the front door as the clock behind her clicked to 5:45 AM.

An old, blue pickup pulled into the driveway moments later; after years of practice, the Deckers and the Corners had near perfect timing. Will Corner leaned out from the driver's side window and smiled at her.

"Morning, Ms. Decker. No Mike this morning?"

She threw her stuff into the already packed trunk while giving him a sarcastic look in the side mirror. "You're kidding, right? It's summer vacation for the less insane."

She pulled open the back door and caught Drew Corner as he fell forward with the window he'd been sleeping on. He opened one eye sleepily and yawned. "Morning D-d-d-decker."

"Hi, Drew," she responded, pushing him upright and climbing over him to the middle seat. "Geoff," she added as she settled in next to the third Corner. Geoff nodded and returned to studying his flip folder.

"Haven't gotten a word out of him yet this morning," commented Alex Corner from the front seat. "Morning, Decker. Nice shirt."

She contemplated her bright green t-shirt that read "ROOKIE" in white block letters They pulled out of the driveway and started the five minute ride to West High School. Sarah twisted her long brown hair into a single braid, smiled nervously at her reflection in the rearview mirror, and tried to calm down.

"Something wrong, Decker?" asked Will, catching onto her nervous habits.

"No. Not really. It's just…I've never been to band camp before."

Alex laughed quietly. "Not many underclassmen have."

It was the truth. Sarah was one of three sophomores entering West High's Marching Eagles that year—the largest group in West history to have entered was the four Corners around her, two years ago. There were no freshmen in the Eagles.

The rest of the ride was silent; the 5A West High parking lot was anything but.

Five gleaming charter buses and a semi sat patiently at the far end of the lot; frantic first-time mothers ran in circles; large piles of luggage were scattered haphazardly; teenagers clumped in groups and ignored all goings-on around them and above it all, a group of senior guys had started a game of Ultimate Frisbee that was sending rookies diving for cover.

Will shifted the truck into park. Alex hit his sleeping brother on the head; Drew woke with a start. Geoff put his music in his pocket and pulled out a water gun. Sarah looked at him suspiciously.

"What exactly do you plan on doing with that?"

Alex pulled a much larger water gun from under his seat and grinned devilishly at her for a moment. He then kicked open his door and swung out onto the roof of the truck. He held the gun above his head and let out an ear-splitting war cry. All around the parking lot, upperclassmen pulled out similar weapons and proceeded to thoroughly drench everyone wearing a green rookie shirt.

Sarah groaned as Drew, still half-asleep, pulled her from the truck, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her to the center of the one-sided battle. Shrieks of flutes and colorguard girls filled the parking lot as some of the more macho rookies attempted to fight back, to no avail. In moments the battle was over, and the parking lot was just quieting down when a loud whistle brought the 250-member marching band to attention. The response "WEST" reverberated around the lot.

Mr. Collins stepped from his office and looked around at the dripping rookies and grinning veterans. The director smiled to himself and climbed onto the roof of the Corners' truck.

"Good morning," he said. And then, louder, "Good morning! And welcome to this new and improved edition of the West High Marching Eagles!" The silence that followed this exclamation was broken by a lone whoop from an obscure end of the lot.

"I heard that, Alex," he commented. Alex Corner proceeded to look outraged while the rest of the band laughed quietly. "It is exactly 6:02 AM. Meet in your sections by 6:05. Section leaders, role call and bus sign-in, if you please. Most of you know the drill, and if you don't, follow someone who looks like he knows. We'll gather at 6:22. We leave at exactly 6:28 AM. Whether or not you, your luggage, or your instrument comes with us is entirely up to you. Dismissed."

The first person to move was Will Corner, who shouted "BONES ON THE WALL!" and sprinted off in the general direction of the high school. Sarah followed him somewhat more sedately as the parking lot once again broke into mass chaos.

Precisely twenty minutes later the now organized band met again in the center of the parking lot around the Corners' truck. Mr. Collins called attention once again.

"Before we leave, I'd like to point out a few people for the sake of your collective sanity. Woody Solomich and Liz See, your drum majors, you of course already know. Alex, Will, Drew, Geoff, front and center, if you please."

The four brothers made their way to the truck and climbed up into the bed.

"Alex is your baritone captain; Will runs the bones, Drew the line, and Geoff the trumpets. If you ever find yourself in a situation you're unprepared to deal with, follow one of the four Corners and you'll make it out ok."

There was a smattering of nervous laughter. Sarah, who'd known the Corners her entire life, was once again startled by how similar the quadruplets looked: all had the short-cropped red hair and green eyes traditional in their family.

"One more introduction, Em—Emma, where are you—Emma Wilson, the tuba captain, will be in cahoots with the Corners this year." A tall girl with crazily curly brown hair waved from in front of the truck and Alex pretended to swoon. "Very nice. The remainder of introductions will be made on buses and at camp, but these seven have been specially informed to be ready for any and everything that may happen today. It is 6:26—find your section, get on a bus—and band!" The rising hubbub quieted down, "It is with great apprehension and fear I announce that we will, this year, be rooming by section."

A tidal wave of noise overtook the parking lot at this announcement. Only the aforementioned seven seemed prepared: water guns reappeared as they shepparded bandmates toward busses.

6:28 came and five buses pulled out of West High's parking lot.


End file.
